Lufia: Soul's Rebellion
by Thramkalith
Summary: The Sinestrals awaken time and time again, only to be defeated... But there is a greater purpose behind the endless combat between humans and Sinestrals, a darker purpose. One youth, in a desperate attempt to free himself from the ever repeating clash f
1. Prologue

Happy fun disclaimer time: I own none of the characters from the Lufia series, although numerous characters made up by me will appear in this story.  
  
Tale by Torchlight  
  
I blinked my eyes, slowly, groggily awaking from the long period of unconsciousness. I tested my bonds, straining against the chains and shackles that held me to the wall.  
  
"It's no use," came a voice... His voice.  
  
I could feel it, it could belong to no other. I scanned the room rapidly, my eyes taking in the details, the smooth stone walls, not of bricks of stone or anything like that, but straight, flat, and continuous. A testament to the creator of the castle, who lurked somewhere in the darkness beyond the single torch that flickered over my head. It sputtered for a moment, as if a strong, cold wind had blown across it, but then returned to providing its unstable half-light.  
  
I knew what he would look like if he revealed himself. Looking back, I had always known what he looked like, even when I did not know he existed, his darkness even then suffused my brain. He would look like some strange specter, a cloak and a mask with horns, with no body, except for a strange, glowing orb. This form was, of course, a lie, just like all else about him.  
  
"Just you wait, this isn't over," I croaked at him, my voice rough in my throat, sounding weak even to my ears as it ventured out into the darkness and was smothered.  
  
"Oh? Hoping your friend will save you?" He laughed then, derisively. He was smirking, too, I could not see it, but I could feel it, feel it in my very veins, for the darkness smirked with him. "The rebel has been crushed, he will trouble the Balance no more."  
  
I sighed, figuring this a lie, but knowing it could be true, "Well then, why do I still live?"  
  
The feeling of his smirk rolled in once more, a chill down my spine, and the light of the torch was, for the moment, suppressed, burning even more feebly against this black chill.  
  
"You amuse me. No one else has dared to do what you have done. I do not know if you realize the full implications, but I intend to find out exactly how you came to this. Your state of being seems... Ridiculous, considering the alternatives. You had the chance to decide the fate of the world, you had that which makes them what they are, and those who defy them capable of doing so. You had it, the power stronger than magic itself, and you threw it away... I must know, did you do it for the reason you started with, because it meant others expected something of you? Did you do this because you were a coward? Or did you do this for something else... To defy... Me?" He laughed once more, and the torch in its iron holder rattled with the vibrations, and went out with the chill.  
  
I could not quake in terror or shiver from the cold, not only because I would deny him such satisfaction if I could, but also because, in my imprisonment, I was bound with arms and legs stretched out so that I could not move my limbs without considerable effort, and even then the results would be minimal.  
  
"Of course," he continued, "that's not how it started, in any case. You did not know I existed at the beginning." I felt the texture of the air change as he focused for a second, and the torch suddenly burst back into flames. "But it is no matter. I want to hear all about it from the start..."  
  
"Well then, Arek," I snarled, "we don't seem to have anything better to do. I suppose I'd best humor you. Just as you have made the world do for five hundred years."  
  
"I did not ask for commentary, Boy, nor did I say you could address me. Tell your story, and no excess commentary. I want only the facts."  
  
"Fine. It started when I was rather young, and the first stirrings of the sixth rendition swept the land..." 


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Him that Would Walk Alone**  
  
I could feel it flowing through me, the power that generations of the bloodline of Maxim had used to defeat their ultimate enemies... The Sinistrals. When their resurrection was eminent, those of the blood of Maxim and Selan, Guy, and Artea would have the deep power in their veins awaken. These first victors over the dark powers of the would-be gods somehow passed on their strongest power on to their descendants... The power of the Spiritual Force and the Wave. In the black times of a rendition, the power of humanity's spirit would come to them to be used as a weapon against their most powerful foes, but for me, something was wrong. My lineage contained none of the blood of the great heroes from times of old, but the elders of the village had found the Spiritual Force awakening in me, and so I was forced into training in the harsh ways of combat, for the fate of the world could some day rest upon my shoulders.  
  
"No no no! It's not good enough to block all the time, you must take command of the offensive or you will never win a battle!" his arms teacher told him, as he battered at my meager defenses, it was all I could do to keep him from braining me with his heavy training sword. "You must attack or be worn down until you are defeated!"  
  
I did not respond, and I concentrated on keeping the blunt training sword of my instructor from striking me. This had lasted for a long time, almost twenty minutes, until the instructor brought his weapon arcing around and struck me a hard rap on the wrist, followed by a blow to the stomach. I groaned, feeling the areas that I knew, from previous training sessions, would be bruises by the next day, and dropping my sword. I was mostly useless with it.  
  
"You should be able to do better than that... You should be able to defeat such as I with ease in a contest of arms, as the spirit of humanity should aid you in each stroke."  
  
"Why do you expect this of me? My blood is not of the three great Lineages, so why should their powers come to me?"  
  
"The elders have felt it... I have watched you and you have felt it. Everyone can feel it around them. The Spiritual Force is part of us all, but only a select few can use it. Now pick up your sword and we shall fight again."  
  
"No! I'm no good at swordplay, and I refuse to let a foolish belief in a past long gone dominate my future! It's not right for me to be subservient to a was!."  
  
His trainer looked skeptical, "What's not right?"  
  
"I don't want to live in the shadow of the past, to have destiny dominate my life because of a power I should not have! I will find my own way to be strong, I will not rely on some misplaced energy from the past!"  
  
"You? Who won't even try ? Hah," the trainer shook his head slowly. "Will wonders never cease... You refuse to try but expect to be strong."  
  
"I said with this sword! I will not waste time training with a weapon that feels awkward and useless in my hands! I have no skill for swordplay."  
  
"Some day you may have to take up the Dual Blade and lead others into combat against the Sinestrals themselves... What then?"  
  
"I am not of Maxim's blood! That weapon will come not to me."  
  
"The Spiritual Force does, though. You must train."  
  
"Not like this! I won't do it like this!" and, with tears prickling the side of my eyes, I turn and ran, hurrying away into the forest.  
  
I ran onwards, stumbling over protruding roots and crashing through low branches. I lunged onwards, over small streams and natural ditches, until I fell, exhausted, onto a soft patch of moss. After resting for a time, panting for air, I stood, looking around at the clearing, and noting a large trapezoidal stone pedestal with a sword standing straight up and down in its center, the hilt raised to a little under his chest level.  
  
"How quaint, a sword in a stone," I grumbled, not amused, or impressed.  
  
I approached it, glaring at it. Whoever had put it here obviously thought they were very clever, because anyone who managed to pull it out would think they were special, or an ordained hero, or something silly like that. It would be cruel to have someone rush to his death in a moronic quest to save the world after drawing this shiny weapon, so I decided to remove it now. I stepped up to the pedestal, and pulled on the sword, which, as I had expected, pulled easily out of the stone. As it came out there was a sudden flash of light behind me. I turned, startled. A man, a little taller than myself stood there, with wild blue hair, and in full armor.  
  
"So, someone has come to claim that relic of mine at last... Glad to see it."  
  
I stared at the man, "Who are you?"  
  
"No one, anymore... Just an outcast of the Spiritual Force waiting for someone to claim my legacy once more."  
  
"This sword? Bah! I am not the one that a sword of power would seek... I have no skills in swordplay."  
  
The man chuckled, "Nor would I expect you to, really. I always wondered why it appeared as a sword time and time again, but look, it finally returned to its purer nature."  
  
I looked at the sword he had been holding in his hand, but it was a sword no longer. Now it was a large, glistening axe, adorned with runes. It looked to be massive and heavy, but he lifted it easily with one hand.  
  
"What sorcery is this?" I cried aloud.  
  
"Not sorcery, the... Well it is hard to explain. Suffice to say, it seems my power has returned to itself, use it well, young man, perhaps we will discuss it some time in future, but my contact with you touched by the Spiritual Force is short."  
  
"The Spiritual Force again? I tire of this! I want no destiny, I want no power, I want no part of the Spiritual Force! Why does it persist in tormenting my every step?"  
  
"Hmm... In my youth I had some of its aid, and helped defeat many powerful foes, but there were others that drew its power more truly, and I was but a fragment of the strength granted to them, as are most humans just used as fragments of the Spiritual Force, and elves the tool with which to guide it."  
  
"I wish it would leave me alone..."  
  
"Do you truly? You would walk without the feel of human companionship? Without the touch of warmth shared by all those that live and breathe? You would walk alone in a land where all else is part of a singular whole? Is that truly what you wish?"  
  
"Yes... Yes it is! The warmth turns to chill in my bones, and companions to chains! I want to be free from this prison! The past, the long distant past has no right to rule over my future. The Sinestrals rise again and again, I feel, because those with the Spiritual Force raise it again and again. The two are connected by more than mere portence."  
  
The man looked grim, "If you are so determined, I will tell you the way, but it will make you like they ar... No, no it will not, for even they are bound as Four, or rather, three now, though you may speak some truth. If such desolate solitude is what you seek, go to the great temple in the west, there you will find an order of monks who can show you a way to become one with the Spiritual Force, or shatter its bonds forever. I should warn you, though, that nothing shatters the bonds of fate."  
  
My eyes blazed with determination and delight. "I care not! Freedom beings with a single step, and I would have it no matter the cost, and I tell you, the Spiritual Force is the power that drives fate, without it I will be free."  
  
"So you have spoken. Some day you will look back on this time and weep that you ever spoke those words, for you will find that you have sacrificed much to gain no true freedom at all."  
  
"You're wrong. Just you wait, things will change, without the Spiritual Force, I will make them change." 


End file.
